Glitter on the Floor
by Otaku786
Summary: He noticed that the boy's hands were warm despite the ice-chilled glass."Thanks." Puck said.And as his friends quickly scrambled to get out of the booth,Glitter leaned forward.His lips almost tickled."Puck...I'd really like to make purple with you." -P/K


**A/N: **This was my submission for the Diva-Off at the Puckurt community on LJ. The prompt was: "Nice Star Wars sheets." The playlist can be found at (http:/ www. / playlist?list= PL84309B052A8B60B7) without the spaces, and **I do not own Glee or any of the songs/lyrics **mentioned.

* * *

**Glitter on the Floor**

* * *

"_Somebody once told me the world is gonna roll me. I ain't the sharpest tool in the shed. __She was looking kind of dumb, with her finger and her thumb in the shape of an 'L' on her forehead._"

Puck groaned, fumbling around blindly for his other pillow until he realized it was at the other end of the bed, and he cursed internally for what had to be the thousandth time that week. He pushed himself out of his pillow's rabbit hole long enough to breathe a heavy huff, reorient his body completely, and plop back down face-first with a frustrated grunt. He reached out for the other pillow and slammed it firmly over his head like a lid, but all it did was contain the blood still whooshing in his ears from the sudden and abrupt movements after such a long, stiff period. It did nothing to block out the same goddamned song that had been playing at annoyingly random intervals for the past few hours. He wondered why he hadn't turned the damned phone thing off yet. As the audio clip finally lapsed into voicemail, only to start ringing again a few eternity-long minutes later, Puck remembered that oh yeah, he just didn't care enough to reach over for it. Maybe the battery would die soon; he couldn't remember how long ago he'd lost the charger.

"_...gonna roll me. I ain't the sharpest tool in the shed._"

Puck used to like the song but now, for obvious reasons, it had surpassed annoying-beyond-belief. Maybe he would have changed it, if it hadn't fit the caller so perfectly. Or maybe he would have changed it anyway – if he'd felt like it mattered at all.

When the phone then rang twice in the span of twenty seconds – which was like nails scratching the insides of Puck's skull, and he _seriously_ wanted to cut the lead vocalist of Smash Mouth – Puck finally snapped, and his hand darted out toward his nightstand before he even thought about it.

"The fuck is your _problem_, Hudson?" Puck answered. He wanted to leave it there, not even bothering to hope that the cracking in his voice was lost in the pillows' muffling effect.

"What's _my _problem? Dude. I thought we were going out tonight." The voice on the other end sounded surprised and more than slightly confused, which wasn't unusual. There was a beat of silence in which Puck just kind of stared into the darkness of his pillowcase, and then the voice spoke again. "Are you sick or something? I've been trying to call you like, all day. None of the guys said they'd heard from you."

Puck was quiet. He didn't really have an explanation for his dropping off the face of the Earth for days, except that he just didn't want to _deal_ anymore.

After about thirty seconds of silence, in which Puck's mind started to go blank again, and he forgot he was on the phone, a slight sigh into his ear almost startled him. "Look, Puck." The familiar voice said slowly, balancing a familiarly casual tone with seriousness. "I know that…you've been kind of out of it lately. But I'm worried about you, dude; you're all quiet and moody and…that's never a good sign. You're my friend, and I care. What's going on, man?"

Puck was quiet again. Slowly, because it still hurt to think too much, he was remembering that, oh yeah, he still had Finn. He'd always had Finn, despite any small – okay, extremely fucking _huge _bumps in the road. Finn wasn't the quickest, but he always got there for Puck first. Finn cared.

Puck closed his eyes, the darkness no different from when they were open, and he exhaled heavily into the phone. He was so tired, and his headache still pounded, yet he felt so relieved after that one breath. "You know, man. Life. It just sucks sometimes, you know?"

Finn hummed in response. Then, there was a strong blowing into Puck's ear, as if Finn was breathing too hard, and he wanted to make a joke, but that's when he heard the noise of a busy city street in the background, and he realized Finn was outdoors.

"I know. Believe me, I know…but. We're still going out tonight," Finn finally said, and he sounded kind of far away, as if being pulled away from the phone, and into the chaos around him. That's how it always sounded from that end, if the person was outside – the City made everything sound like you were going through a tunnel. "I'll be there in thirty."

"Wait, what?" Puck jerked up, as if Finn was tickling the bottom of his foot. Shocked with a jolt of energy. "Dude, no. I have a headache. I'm tired as crap, and I have a headache. I'm not going anywhere."

"Um, yes, you are. It's Friday, and you've been moping around for the past week and a half; you haven't shown up at the studio, and I know that you wouldn't bother leaving the apartment otherwise. You need some air. And probably some food." Finn said, and then Puck heard him hailing a cab from farther away before his voice was back in his ear. "I'll actually be there in twenty. Wear that outfit we got you, and be _ready_, for my sanity's sake, to go clubbing. I can't handle a repeat of last time."

Puck almost smirked at the memory of Finn's red, spluttering face when he walked in on Puck jerking off, before he remembered that he was supposed to be protesting. "Wait a second, Finn—"

The call ended.

* * *

"Looking _good_, Puckerman."

"Oh wow, is that…is that lipstick?"

"_Damn_ Starchild…"

The guys from the studio were waiting for Finn and Puck when they stepped out of the cab. Puck didn't know where they were, but it was somewhere in midtown Manhattan, obviously a busy part of the City, yet the cab had somehow found an area that was somewhat secluded by the City's standards. The lights warped around the skyscrapers like glowing clouds of smog. People were just as hurried and excited and rude, but here, it was tame to the point that there were reserved parking spaces – which was, like, virtually unheard of in Manhattan – and the short line outside the club was actually distinguishable from the rest of the night-crawling crowd. The loud buzz of conversation and the blaring of horns blended like white-noise into the background.

"Where are we?" Puck asked, following the guys to stand in line. He was still glancing around him, looking almost uncomfortable to be surrounded by people after days of isolation.

"It's called the VAL." Finn answered from behind him. "This is the back entrance. It's super awesome inside – I don't think you came the last time we were here." He sounded distracted by anxiety as he bounced on his toes, but at least he wasn't staring at Puck anymore.

The other guys, though, had yet to get over their shock. As they waited in the crisp spring air, Puck had to keep batting away their hands from various areas of his body. Anderson was 'admiring' the make of his top, the smooth black material and jagged silver design. His hands were slow and calculating, and Puck had a feeling that the curly-haired hobbit was actually mapping out his ill-concealed pecs beneath the tight fabric. Chang kept fingering his spiked collar, despite Puck's insistence to cut it out – Mike knew damn well how sensitive Puck's neck was. And freaking Evans, who'd apparently been dared to dye his hair blond, kept caressing his waist and brushing his thighs. He didn't even bother with the excuse of liking the silver design; he flat out told Puck that the black skinny jeans did "fucking _wonders_ for his hips".

He seriously doubted their places on the Kinsey scale sometimes.

The bouncer, a strong-bodied, mild-faced guy whom Anderson addressed as "Matt", let them through after about ten minutes. It was past eleven o'clock, and the weekend had officially begun. Hoards of college students swarmed the VAL like horny bees in a hive. Their voices were buzzing, their bodies shimmied and gyrated, and the bass of the stereo system pulsed like a single heartbeat, connecting everyone from the inside out. The colors, the smells, the sounds, the ambiance – it consumed all who set foot inside the Vocal Adrenaline Lounge. Even Puck's lingering headache seemed to disappear under the increased atmospheric pressure.

The club had a balcony running along the room's perimeter, allowing those above to mingle while those below danced their inhibitions away. From the balcony, Puck could see a portion of the bar downstairs against one wall, and the corner of a stage against the opposite. Overhead lights of purple and green cast an aurora over the dance floor in the middle, illuminating desires while fantasies were fulfilled in the shadows. The waves of color glimmered, and Puck thought there was glitter in the air until he realized it was dust. The room was thick with lust and the sweet perfume of incense.

Somewhere, the DJ changed the track just as Puck was pushed out of his stupor to follow Finn and Blaine down the grand staircase. "Dynamite" ended on a hard beat that simultaneously started a swell into "California Gurls," and the club shifted as more people filed onto the cold dance floor. Puck was jostled a bit, and he felt somebody's hands rest briefly on his ass. It could have been Sam again, but there was no way to be sure.

In front of him, Finn towered over pretty much everybody, and Puck stayed close as his six-foot three-inch friend cut through the swarm of bodies to a newly emptied booth nearby. Puck ended up in the middle, with Blaine to his left and Mike on his right, and for a few minutes, they were just content to observe. That is, _Puck_ was content to observe, before the guys all turned to him and started talking at once, voices straining to be heard over each other's as well as Katy Perry's.

"So, Puck! Where've you been, man?" Mike asked, and it could have been conversational or something if he hadn't been speaking so loud.

"Hey, you missed it at the studio, dude! This guy came in and…" Sam started from the other side of Mike, voice louder.

"Isn't this place great? It's almost midnight and they usually do this thing where…" Finn cut in from his place across from Sam, unable to hear anything with his ears so close to the nearest speaker. His voice was loudest.

"I _knew_ that outfit looked good on you. You're so getting laid tonight." Blaine said, his volume the most controlled as he swept his hand across Puck's chest again.

"Wait, what?" Puck had to yell to hear his own voice, for fuck's sake. The guys all stopped and looked at him for a few seconds, before sharing identical knowing smirks and mischievous glances.

"Nothing," Blaine said, smiling and failing to look anything but sly. Finn just said, "Hey, I'm going to check out that slushy fountain" before disappearing from the booth's end, his head of dark hair weaving through the crowd to the bar.

Puck's eyes remained on the crowd. He wasn't much for fashion (his current ensemble aside), but he could tell Glam-rock when he saw it. Knee-high boots on the guys, stripper heels on the girls, leather and mini-skirts, eye-smoldering eyeliner and eye-popping eyeshadow, and hair feathers every color of the rainbow. Thickened eyelashes, lipstick, and copious amounts of body glitter – gothic mixed with glitz in the most alluring of ways. Adam Lambert's "If I Had You" began to sum up the scene with disturbing accuracy from the speakers. Handkerchiefs were tucked into back pockets, and if the profuse androgyny hadn't told Puck the nature of the club sooner, he would have realized it was _that_ type of club right then. It was true, when he looked closer, that the grinding was mostly between people of the same gender, and the sliding of bodies like puzzle pieces was unbelievably erotic.

At some point during the song, Sam slipped out onto the dance floor. Puck stared at his blond hair, trailed and lingered on his full pink lips, then continued to rove over his hoodie and loose jeans – and Puck had to wonder why he'd been the only one forced to play dress-up. He watched Sam get pulled between a dark-skinned girl in Technicolor zebra-print and a tanned guy with neat, shimmering dreadlocks, before his eyes wandered. The overhead lights were playing more tricks, reflecting off tiny points in people's clothing until everything glowed in the dark, and all was distracting. The beat made him want to get up and dance, but he was weary of impending dizziness even though he hadn't had a drink. New Yorkers partied hard.

The song continued, and then flowed straight to "Edge of Glory," threatening to throw every clubber over the brink of insanity. "_There ain't a reason you and me should be alone tonight, yeah baby (tonight, yeah, baby)! And I got a reason that you should take me home tonight (tonight)…_"

Blaine was gone from his side before Gaga's voice even began, of course, and Puck realized that Finn still hadn't come back from wherever. Was there even a slushie fountain? He briefly scanned over the mass of heads to the bar, expecting to pick out his friend easily, looking lost as usual among many people shorter than him. Finn also wasn't dressed remarkably, so he should have been easy to pick out of the colorful crowd.

Instead, Puck almost immediately locked gazes with an intriguing pair of eyes.

Framed in bold black. Irises, reflective pools of the green and blue aurora above their heads, twinkling at Puck from across the room – two bright and lonely silver stars, beaconing in the night. Their gaze was steady, unwavering, as if they'd been focused on Puck for some time already without him noticing, and he felt like a locked target. The eyes belonged to a beautiful creature, the likes of which Puck had only seen in wet-dreams. Between the gaps in buzzing bodies, Puck could see that the man's outfit contrasted bright red and white with dark blue. The top beneath his jacket was striped. He was perched on the counter of the bar, using his tongue to absentmindedly (or completely intentionally) play with the straw in his glass. It hit Puck, suddenly, and he knew somehow that he was staring at the VAL's Queen Bee.

"Hey!" Mike shouted in Puck's ear, startling Puck just a little because he thought was alone – or at least, as alone as you can be at an empty table in a crowded club. Plus, Mike was usually the first one out on the dance floor, so it was strange that he hadn't been sucked into the vortex yet. Puck was reluctant to break his hypnotic connection with the stranger across the bar, but the gaps in the crowd briefly closed as different song began to play, so he spared his friend a glance.

"Dude," Mike continued. He sounded giddy. "Glitter over there was _totally_ just checking you out! Oh my god, that's _insane_!"

"Wait, what?" Puck called back just as loudly. "Who?"

Just then, their friends reappeared as an unfamiliar song came on, and they slid back into the booth. Puck's question went unanswered. Finn was last to return, and he immediately leaned toward the center of the table with wide eyes. Puck wondered where the slushies were. "Guys. You'll never guess who I just met at the bar."

"I totally just grinded Lady 'Cedes." Sam stated, looking extremely smug. "_And _Joe Hart. At the same time."

"_Nice_." Mike whistled and high-fived him.

"Oh yeah? Well, I just got felt up by Lady Britt and Lady _Satan –_ at the same time." Blaine threw in proudly. The other guys whooped, except for Puck, who didn't know who those people were or why Blaine was proud to have been felt up by two girls when he was gay.

"It's kind of hard to beat that, Hudson." Sam called across the table. Mike and Blaine nodded in agreement. Meanwhile, Puck kind of tuned out. There was a gap out on the dance floor again, and he was trying to locate those enchanting eyes from before. It was easier said than done, and he was disappointed when the eyes weren't where he'd last saw them.

"…Glitter." Finn burst, unable to contain himself apparently. His eyes were still wide, and after that one word registered, so were the eyes of his friends. Well, besides Puck.

"No way."

"Glitter? As in…_Glitter_?"

"I totally saw him eye-sexing Puck a few minutes ago!" Mike exclaimed. The guys turned to him then, and threw glances at Puck, who seemed oblivious – his attention rapt on the action out on the floor.

"Wait, _what_?"

"Seriously?"

Finn confirmed: "Yeah, it's true! I went over there to find the slushy fountain and…oh crap I forgot the slushies! But yeah so, I went over there, and he was _there_. Sitting on the counter. He had a slushy! And I was freaking out like 'holy-crap-it's-Glitter-he's-right-there,' and he turned to me. Like, he looked at me and started _talking_. It was crazy!"

"No way." Sam repeated, awed.

"So wait, wait, what did he _say_?" Blaine waved his hands in anxious excitement towards the taller man.

"Oh!" Finn looked surprised, like he couldn't believe he forgot the most important part. "Yeah. So I went over there. And then he turned to me – and I was trying not to stare and stuff, you know – so he tapped me on the shoulder and he was like, 'Is that your friend in the KISS suit? I saw you guys come in together,' and I was like…well, I kind of dorked for a second 'cause I couldn't think straight. But then I was like 'Who, Puck? Yeah, he's one of my best friends.' And then hewas like, 'Oh…Puck, is it?' And then I just kind of…freaked out some more. Because, _dude_!"

"_Dude_, he's totally interested!" Sam gaped. "That's like…unbelievable."

"Oh man, Puck, you've gotta be the luckiest bastard I know!"

"…Puck?"

The four guys turned their attention to Puck once more. He was smirking, which was odd in itself, since none of them had seen Puck smile like that for some time – his lack of confidence lately had been the saddest sight any of his friends had ever seen. But right then, not only was he smirking, but he didn't seem to have heard a word they'd said. The four other guys at the table followed Puck's flirty gaze out across the dance floor, instantly curious as to what miracle had broken Puck out of his funk. It took them a second, since there were so many people in the way, but they finally spotted who Puck was looking at across the room. Not only looking at, but _totally undressing with his eyes_.

They simultaneously voiced their surprise and shock with loud mixtures of "oh my god" and "holy shit, no _way_"…just as the music faded to a simple, low heartbeat, and the buzzing of the hive suddenly hushed without prompting. The lights' frantic pulsing slowed, whispers made the club hiss, and the VAL was suspended in anticipation. Like subjects awaiting royalty; worker bees awaiting their Queen, the crowd on the dance floor began to part.

Across the room and directly down the newly formed aisle, a black pair of Dr. Martens gracefully touched the ground.

* * *

Watching the man strut across the dance floor was like watching a runway show, except way better because everything was real; intense: the click of his lace-ups against the wooden floor, strides fluid, matched the rhythmic thumping of the lonely bass and of Puck's heartbeat. The colors of his outfit were much more vibrant, especially the bright red of his incredibly form-fitting skinny jeans. His jacket was dark blue with bright red piping, and his tank top underneath was striped the colors of the American flag. He carried two drinks in his hands – his own glass of red, and a full one of blue – and carried himself with an air of superiority, and purpose.

Puck lost his smirk when the man was halfway to their table, finally understanding that the stopping of time wasn't just in his head. People were staring. Mike's hand was squeezing his knee and Blaine's hand was on Puck's bicep, but he didn't look over at his friends because he was too busy staring at the approaching man, hazel eyes wide. The stranger's face appeared more stunning the nearer he drew, and his bright eyes remained stark against his porcelain skin.

The man was sparkling.

And as he finally reached their booth, leaning over the table until his face was all Puck could focus on, and said – "Hello _Puck_. I couldn't help but notice you sitting lonely; way over here…I'd really like it if you would join me to dance." – Puck realized that it was glitter. Glitter on his eyelids, spreading up into his perfect eyebrows and down to dust his cheeks. Glitter sprinkled down his smooth, creamy neck, disappearing into his shirt. The sleeves of his jacket were pushed up to his elbows, and glitter glistened on his forearms too. Glitter spilled over to pepper his clothing and his dark, poofed hair. It was all too much, yet somehow not enough to distract from the man's natural beauty, just like royalty, and it reminded Puck of powdered sugar.

Which he really, really wanted to lick off.

"This is for you." Glitter said (and Puck understood the name reference now), his voice was just as pretty as his face, and he held out the blue drink. Puck must have looked dazed while staring, or hesitated for a second too long, because one of the guys kicked his shin under the table in prompting to accept the beverage. When Puck took the cup, his hand grazed Glitter's fingertips, and he noticed that the boy's hands were warm despite the ice-chilled glass.

"Thanks." Puck said. Glancing down into the cup, he recognized a blue slushy. And as his friends quickly scrambled to get out of the booth, as if on queue, Glitter leaned forward to whisper in Puck's ear. The feather touch of his smooth lips almost tickled.

"If you dance with me, Puck, I'd _really_ like to make purple with you…"

Glitter towed Puck out to the middle of the dance floor, seemingly unaware of the many eyes trained on the two of them – unaware, or just used to it, is what Puck guessed, correctly. Once Glitter was at the center of the room, the DJ over by the stage (some guy with sunglasses and black driving-gloves,) announced: "H-B-I-C: Glitter's on the floor, ya'll!" Then, he turned the music back up. With Glitter in the midst of the crowd, the auto-tuned introduction only served as a catalyst in igniting the powder keg of accumulated energy. In three seconds flat, the VAL was jumping again, impossibly livelier than before.

"_There's a place downtown where the freaks all come around. It's a hole in the wall; it's a dirty free for all, tonight._"

Puck could see why the crowd seemed to center around and feed off of Glitter's presence. As soon as the bass line began, Glitter's charisma exploded. He popped his shoulders so hard and precisely it looked like it hurt, and he stared into Puck's eyes with stone-cold, unwavering focus. And then, Puck could only watch as, when Kesha's voice began, the rest of Glitter's body unlocked, and he began to flow like a swelling wave.

"_When the dark of the night comes around, that's the time…that the animal comes alive, looking for something wild…_"

Glitter began to dance around Puck, brushing up against his back, still moving as languidly as a waking snake. In front of him, Puck spotted his friends by the bar, just…watching. With smirks on their faces, the bastards, like they knew Puck would be caught in this position – he didn't know what the hell he was supposed to do. Well, he could obviously try _dancing_, but something about Glitter's intense concentration made Puck feel like anything he did would be amateur in comparison.

Glitter circled back around to dance in front of Puck just as the chorus picked up again, and he seemed to be mouthing the words to himself as he started to…holy fuck, he was belly-dancing. His abdomen rippled beneath his tank-top, and Puck couldn't help but wonder how it would look without clothes on. Glitter's controlled looseness of his core sent tremors throughout the rest of his body, shifting everything to look so disconnected, yet so synchronized. "_There's a place downtown where the freaks all come around. It's a hole in the wall; it's a dirty free for all, and they – turn me on, when they – take it off…_"

Puck stared, gaping, at Glitter's hips. The way they swiveled in a flawless ellipse, waist loose, legs braced apart. So slowly, so sensually…god, it was too hot too look away, and the magnet red of his tight pants didn't help at all. Puck watched as some of the sparkles shook free of his clothes and landed on the floor. Puck stuttered a second, then lifted his gaze to Glitter's face in awe. Glitter was staring right back, as if he'd been doing so the whole time, and his mechanic expression finally slid into a smirk as he mouthed, winking: "_There's a place I know, if you're looking for a show – where they go hardcore, and there's glitter on the floor. And they – turn me on…_"

When he stepped closer to simply grind against Puck's front-side, Puck finally snapped out of his stupor and began to dance with him.

It was midnight, which meant DJ Double A (as he announced himself) paid homage to Glitter and his "pure ownage" of the VAL, and Puck was somehow there as Glitter's chosen dance partner for the night. Dance partner…and frottage post. From the speakers, Kesha rolled it to Gaga, who rolled it back to Kesha, who passed it over to Katy, who gave it back to Kesha. By the time she said – "_Dirt and glitter cover the floor. We're pretty and sick, we're young and we're bored._" – Glitter had his legs hooked around Puck's waist, and his hands tightly gripped Puck's shoulders as he shamelessly humped and writhed. Puck's tight suit was doing nothing to conceal his arousal. Glitter was moaning into his ear and nipping his now-bare neck, and as Puck felt Glitter's eyelashes flutter against his jaw, he realized that he must have been covered in glitter by then, too.

He didn't mind at all.

Because before the next song even began, they were in the back of Glitter's Maserati (driven by some young guy with an Irish accent), headed back to Puck's apartment.

* * *

"Holy _shit_…" Puck gasped desperately. He gritted his teeth and threw his head back onto his pillow, frantically clawing at the sheets beneath his hands to stay grounded. His wrists were pinned to the bed and he hated that trapped feeling, yet his body didn't want to be set free. He held his breath when he felt teeth latch onto his neck, and forced himself to relax or else be staved off again. He was rewarded with a soft, warm tongue and a tightened grip on his erection. "Ahh…_fuck_…how are you so _tight_?"

"I don't do it this way often." Glitter moved to murmur in his ear, lowly, and his voice was like vanilla cream. It sounded smug, and Puck's body _really _seemed to like the implication of Glitter taking even more control. But then, that silky smooth voice choked on a small whimper as he _finally _went down at the right angle.

Glitter sat up quickly and released Puck's wrists, moving his hands to Puck's chest. His manicured fingernails bit into Puck's pectorals, a little too near his sensitive nipples, which made Puck hiss. Glitter ignored him and dug his nails a little deeper as he rolled his hips down to meet Puck's again.

It was just right there. It was like sticking a finger into the electrical outlet, like touching a live wire, like…like…it just felt _amazing_. God it was so hot…Where did it – oh, yes! Oh fuck, yeah…Right there. Right there was the little bundle of nerves he'd been trying to stab with Puck's dick. He continued to impale himself, eyes rolling to the back of his head, mouth open and panting raggedly. So good…so good…so…so better than good actually, much better, oh god, yes. _Yes…oh, please, yes – so close. So close…!_

"Goddamn it, Glitter, faster. _Please._" Puck barely managed, as if reading the other man's mind. His voice sounded strangled.

Puck's hands moved to grip the other's hips and speed up the pace; he needed release almost as badly as he was lacking air, and he was usually all for slow and steady, but right now he just needed to let go. But as soon as he made contact with the other boy's glistening skin, his wrists were grabbed and pinned to the bed again. For a second, Puck feared that Glitter was going to make him wait again, like he did earlier when Puck tried to take some semblance of control. Instead, Glitter stared into his eyes and continued riding him at the same pace: teasing, satisfying, spreading fire from their cores to their fingertips so slowly and thoroughly, it was almost overwhelming; almost enough to push each of them over the edge. Almost, but not quite. They were missing…something. And Glitter seemed to know what that something was.

"Say my name, baby." Glitter commanded, voice still velvety with dominance, but there was a tremor that matched the trembling of his body. He was holding himself back (but, besides orgasm, Puck didn't know what from). Puck stared up into eyes whose color's name he did not know, shallow breath interrupted by a deep swallow. Their pupils were blown, and Glitter's eyes were wide with a strange hint of urgency.

"Come on, _Noah_. I told you earlier, in the car. Right after you told me yours…Remember."

Puck moaned in the back of his throat as Glitter nipped his neck, giving him no time to answer right away, rolling their hips together a bit faster as if in persuasion. He heard Glitter gasp by his ear as Puck made direct contact with his prostate. Puck forced himself to think back to the time where he'd been wresting Glitter's boots off in the back seat, right before they got to the apartment and Glitter wrapped himself around Puck's waist like a frisky koala.

"…_Kurt_." Puck gasped suddenly, breaking free when he felt Glitt- _Kurt's_ grasp on his wrists loosen. He tangled his fingers into Kurt's hair. "Kurt, please. _Please._"

Kurt moaned. He moved his head to kiss Puck on the mouth for the first time, right as he thrust downward. And the angle, the desperation, the force, was just perfect enough to set them both free.

* * *

"…Nice Star Wars sheets, by the way."

"Shut up, okay? …The others are in the wash."

"Mmhm…So… do you always wear stuff that tight? And with eyeliner? I mean, it's hot, but it's not…you."

"Nah. It was just…the guys from my music studio. They just…We do stuff, sometimes."

"Ah, like the blond from a bottle. I knew it."

"Yeah…so what about you, Mr. 'Glitter: H-B-I-C?'"

Kurt looked up from where he was tracing patterns on Puck's chest. Instead of looking confronted, he smiled, and his eyes were open. Honest. He kind of shrugged. "I like to stand out."

Puck opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by an annoyingly familiar ringtone – "_…now, you're a rock star, get the show on; get paid! All that glitters is gold – only shooting stars break the mold…_"

"Stupid Finn." Puck muttered, grabbing his phone and turning it off before throwing it toward his closet. He didn't feel like dealing with it right now. At Kurt's questioning leveled gaze, he just rolled his eyes and stated candidly: "I'd rather talk to you."

Kurt seemed to hesitate, before he smiled. He had a little dimple by his chin, and with his hair all debauched, and glitter sweated away, he was the most beautiful Puck had seen him all night. Kurt looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he just lay his head down on Puck's shoulder, and began to sing quietly. Content, Puck cuddled him closer, and listened.

"_Before you break, you have to shed your armor_. _Take a trip and fall into the glitter…__Tell a stranger that they're beautiful…So all you feel is love…yeah, all you feel is love…_"


End file.
